hands on the back of a chair. “And Lord Julyan was in attendance at tonight’s celebration. It was quite risky of him to coordinate the attack while he was present.”
“Lord Julyan has proved he has no reservation in flaunting his belief that he is above the law.” Sir Arion’s voice was deep—like a boulder crashing down a mountain. “I imagine he believes that even if he was caught, he would face few consequences. Particularly because the crown prince attested that he didn’t think the men meant to kill him.”
“It’s a message, I imagine,” Arvel said.
Myth stood and swung around with Sir Arion and Prince Benjimir to face Arvel, who was standing in the doorway.
He’d changed clothes. Instead of wearing fancy dress clothes, he was in fawn colored breeches and a leather doublet, much like the sort Prince Benjimir was prone to wear.
Based on the straightness of his posture and the watchful brightness to his eyes, Myth guessed he must have been telling the truth and that the large cut on his shoulder was a graze, not a serious injury as she had started to fear.
“Arvel, how are you feeling?” Prince Benjimir asked.
“Fine,” Arvel said. “I was barely hurt.”
Myth smiled in relief, and the last bit of tension left in her chest eased when Arvel glanced in her direction and gave her a grin of his own.
“Good. Then you can report in to your first training session with Gwendafyn tomorrow,” Prince Benjimir said.
Arvel finally pulled his eyes off Myth. “What? No—Ben, that’s cruel!”
“I’ll need your statement on the attack,” Sir Arion said before the brothers could continue the argument. “But given Translator Mythlan never saw your attackers’ faces, I assume it is the same for you?”
“I’m afraid so,” Arvel sighed.
Sir Arion nodded, then went to the parlor door and exchanged murmured words with the guards just outside.
Myth watched the whole thing with relief.
If Arvel is here they’ll begin questioning him, and my presence will no longer be required.
Pleased with the idea—at this point she wanted nothing more than to slump into her soft bed, even if she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to sleep—Myth bowed slightly. “If that is all that is required of me, may I take my leave now?”
“No.” Arvel strode across the room and gently nudged her back into her chair. “There’s no way I’m letting you leave until we have the whole palace searched. I don’t want those fiends coming for you.”
Myth arched an eyebrow at him. “Why would they come for a mere translator?”
“Because,” Arvel said. “Uncle Julyan would have to be blind not to see how close we are. He might try to use you as leverage.”
Myth shifted in her chair and barely suppressed a scowl. If Lord Julyan and Queen Luciee have been so odious all this time, I find it disgusting they were left to their own devices for so long. Royalty or not, how could King Petyrr have let it continue in this manner?
“It’s doubtful he’ll arrange for anything more tonight,” Prince Benjimir said. “He’ll wait to see if he’s successfully cowed you, and will strike again once he knows he hasn’t. That is, I’m assuming you’re not cowed?”
“No!” Arvel left Myth’s side and prowled in front of the fireplace behind her. “This only proves the worth in what I’m doing. The Fultons need to be dismantled—not just slapped with a fine. After this little show, I intend to strip them of their trading privileges—there’s no way I’ll allow them to trade elven goods again, and I’m of a mind to limit their ability to trade within Calnor itself.” Arvel narrowed his eyes. “Calnor is a country of honor, and Lessa, our greatest ally, is renowned for its purity. Nobles like the Fultons, have no business being in power here.”
“Good.” Sir Arion pushed the door shut as he rejoined the conversation. “Although, as the Guard Commander, I find your sudden change in heart perplexing. Because if you were really this angered with them since the beginning, you should have heeded my suggestion and allowed a guard rotation around you.”
“He’s not wrong,” Prince Benjimir added.
“Which is why you are receiving around the clock guards.” Sir Arion stood in an attentive stance, but his general largeness seemed to fill the room and offer no space for argument. “I will pick the squads tonight. You’ll meet the day shift tomorrow morning. In the interim I have several squads on standby.”
Arvel stopped his restless movements and leaned against Myth’s chair. His arm dangled so close